


Daddy Issues

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [104]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), Blood and Injury, Comfort, Daddy Issues, F/M, Fluff, Hospitalization, Independence, Injury, Missions Gone Wrong, Protective Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: The fact that your father wasn’t around didn’t make you any less badass. Hell, maybe it did the opposite.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [104]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 6
Kudos: 183





	Daddy Issues

Daddy issues. The word got thrown around. It was kind of a meme at this point in time, shorthand to disparage women who’d grown up without a father figure in their life. Like it was their fault that some loser sperm donor had left them when they were still in diapers. It was a funny little insult to toss at women who did what they could to make their way in the world. You hated the phrase. It seemed like yet another way to blame women for things that were, ultimately, the fault of men.

When you were younger, and you were still interested in dating, you’d had the phrase spat at you a few times, mostly in the heated arguments that always preceded yet another abandonment. Maybe it was just the men you dated, but they really seemed to like blaming you for their inability to contribute anything to the relationship. If you wanted to spend time with them, or you wanted to feel like their equal, or if you dared to ask them why there was a half-naked girl in their DMs, they often felt the need to throw your father—or lack thereof—in your face, like he had anything to do with your wanting to be treated like someone they loved. Heaven forbid.

When you joined the Avengers, you stopped dating. It was just easier that way. You could be sent on a mission on such short notice, and that was just easier to deal with if you didn’t have to duck out on a date or something. When you got back, sometimes you were deeply fucked up from whatever you’d seen or done, and there was no way that you could ever tell a civilian what had happened. So you quit seeking out romantic (or sexual) connections with other people. You had your friends there in the Tower, and you had a “friend” in the drawer of your nightstand, and, to be quite honest, that was enough.

Another thing you liked about the Tower: you weren’t the only one there with “daddy issues”. It was like an unofficial pre-req for being a superhero: you had to come from some kind of dysfunctional family background. So if you _did_ have any kind of issues, if your intense, almost compulsive, need to do things yourself derived even a little bit from the fact that you’d grown up with only your mother, you weren’t alone. No one threw it in your face.

Anyway, you weren’t entirely certain that your issues were _just_ because of your lack of a father. For years, you’d worked alone. If there was something that you couldn’t do for yourself, it simply didn’t happen. So you’d had to learn how to do a lot of things on your own: cover your own back, fight your own battles, stitch your own wounds. Joining the team and having partners was a bit of a shock to you. Your first few missions out with the other Avengers always ended in someone (usually Steve) yelling at you for not waiting for backup. But you’d adapted and learned to work well with others, even if it did chafe a little, not being able to rush out and do whatever you needed to do.

There were benefits to your issues, despite what your teammates might have said. When you worked alone, if you hesitated, you got hurt. So in the thick of things, when the others hemmed and hawed and argued over the earpieces about what to do or if it was safe, you kind of just bounded ahead and took care of things. And nothing bad had come of it so far. Maybe you got a little banged up sometimes, but your team was always fine and you always completed the job you’d been sent to do.

Maybe it was shitty of you, but when you were feeling especially down, you caught yourself comparing your issues to your teammates’. Your father hadn’t been around, sure, but that meant he hadn’t been there to abuse you. Or to abuse your mother in front of you. Or to belittle you. Or to constantly compare you to your siblings or to himself. The Avengers was like an ode to the fact that fathers fucked things up, whether or not they were around, but, secretly, you thought you got the better end of the deal.

Like, look at Loki and Thor. Thor’s entire childhood had been spent in pursuit of their father’s approval. Every thing he did, every battle he fought and war he tried to start, they were all because he wanted to feel his father’s love. And, in return, Odin banished him to this backwards-ass planet and told him that he was not worthy. Loki’s story was even worse. At least Thor had the pleasure of sometimes feeling Odin’s warm regard—Loki never got anything of the sort. He might has well have grown up the way you did: with no father in the picture whatsoever. But, because Odin was, in fact, right there the whole time, his presence served as a wordless reminder for Loki that not only would he never compare to his brother, but he’d never be deserving of his father’s time. You’d think that, upon Thor’s banishment, Odin might have turned to his second son to try to make things right, but that didn’t happen either. You never let yourself feel pity for Loki, because you knew without a doubt that he would never accept something like that, but...any time you got a little sore about whoever had knocked up your mom all those years ago, you reminded yourself that things could be worse.

Maybe you gravitated to Loki a little more than anyone else. It wasn’t because of that non-pity you felt, and it also wasn’t because he was an absolute knock-out. He was smart. He had that dry, sarcastic sense of humor that always drew you in. And he let you circle him. He didn’t shut you out or get up and leave when you joined him somewhere. Instead, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet word or just a nod of his head. Sometimes he talked to you, and when he did, you often lost track of time as you fell deeper and deeper into conversation with him. On the rare occasion that you two were sent out together, he didn’t come back to the Tower and scold you for doing what needed to be done. 

Usually.

The two of you weren’t the only agents on this mission, but you _were_ the only two who’d managed to infiltrate the base. It was a stealth job. Don’t make a scene, don’t attract attention; just get in, get the intel, get out. It shouldn’t even have been a mission that required physical deployment, except they’d really beefed up their cybersecurity since the last time you’d gone against them. So Loki kept watch while you did your thing. It was going just fine, too, until one of the newbie agents—you’d been mentally referring to them as the evil interns—stumbled in on you just as you were trying to get out. You disabled him quickly enough to stop him from alerting anyone else, but not quite quickly enough to stop him from firing a round straight through your side. You had to think fast. Kill him and make it obvious that you’d been here, or leave him alive but unconscious and make it obvious that you’d been here? There were no good options. You hissed a warning to Loki over the comms, did what you had to do, and got yourself the fuck out of there.

Something like dread had coiled low in your belly on the flight home. Your wound was a through-and-through. The bullet probably hadn’t hit anything vital, based on the fact that you were still upright and conscious, and your suit was doing a lot to compress the wound and hold back the blood, but this wasn’t something you could take care of on your own. You hated the med bay. That was probably the dumbest part of whatever so-called daddy issues you had—not liking the fact that you had a human body that sometimes got wounded badly enough to require professional help—but it just made you feel too...helpless. The staff that Tony hired, they were good about giving you local anesthetics whenever possible instead of knocking you out with a general, but this felt like something they wouldn’t compromise on. You shifted a little in your seat. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, you were starting to feel it.

Someone was looking at you. You could feel the prickly sensation of eyes against your skin even though very little actual skin was exposed. You looked up, and right into the cool gaze of Loki. When he saw you looking, he let his eyes drift lower, to your side, and then narrowed his eyes. _Alright_ , you thought dryly. _Congratulations. You spotted the blood._ You shifted so that your arm covered most of the gore and lifted your chin at him. _Got something to say?_

He stared you down, though, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You really didn’t want to be the first one to look away, but you had to close your eyes and focus on keeping your breath steady. If the prickling of your skin was any indication, he kept watching you.

When the jet touched down, you remained seated until everyone else had passed you. If you left any blood on your seat, you didn’t really want the others to see it and freak out. It was nothing. They filed out and you pulled yourself to your feet, not even sparing a backwards glance to check. Whoever dealt with the jet after you landed each time, they’d have to take care of it. You felt kind of bad about that, but...what was done was done. You headed off the jet, and almost straight into Loki, who was standing just outside the door. 

“Jesus,” you hissed. Your body flinched of its own accord, and maybe that sent a little shockwave of pain through you. “Lurk much?”

“You’re hurt.” He sounded cool, almost even aloof, but you didn’t have to know him as well as you did to know that it was mostly a disguise.

“Thanks, doc.” You told yourself that it was okay if you were maybe being a little too short with him right now. Like he said, you were hurt. Pain did funny things to people. Hopefully he’d understand. You adjusted your go-bag on your shoulder and kept your face stony. 

His hand reached out, and he was yanking your bag away from you before your brain could make you tighten your grip. He shouldered it smoothly, easily, and slipped his arm around your waist. You wanted to pull away from him, but your body was too sluggish. Fuck. So you pretended that you didn’t mind the way he guided you out of the hangar. You pretended it was your idea in the first place. 

He helped you into the elevator, and you strained to hit the button for the med bay. He made a disapproving noise, but whatever. You both knew it was where you needed to go, but that didn’t mean you had to sit back and wait for him to do it. “They could have helped you on the jet,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the numbers above the door. “Kept you from losing so much blood. Given you something for the pain.”

“What pain?” Your voice didn’t have quite the level of bravado that you’d been hoping for. If anything, it sounded a little...quavery. Internally, you cursed yourself. Loki was the last person you wanted to look like this in front of. You ducked your head. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He didn’t sound particularly convinced, but the doors opened before you could figure out how to assure him that you really _were_ fine. Things got a little blurry then, just as nurses and doctors swarmed around you. Maybe you heard Loki telling them what had happened, and his voice was firm and authoritative. Kind of sexy. He met your eyes through the haze and smirked at you, which filled you with the cold certainty that you’d spoken those words aloud.

But you were rushed away from him before you could really contemplate the true horrors of that situation, and it wasn’t long before the apologetic anesthetist was hovering over you on the bed while she knocked you out.

You woke up in one of the hospital beds. You hated hospital beds. They were never comfortable enough to let someone actually rest and recover in them, and the sounds that constantly filled the area made sleep even more impossible. You cracked your eyelids open, and were immediately horrified by how heavy they felt. You only felt this weak when you were stupid enough to let yourself lose too much blood. “Fuck, guess you were right...” You should have gotten help on the jet. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

The voice made you flinch again, and you whipped your head to look at the source. Loki was sat there beside the bed, and he looked entirely too self-satisfied as he studied you. 

“I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Unconsciousness does tend to effect a person’s awareness.” He sat forward a bit. You told yourself that you weren’t incredibly aware of the way he was looking at you. Soft. Interested. Pleased. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Do the others know?” Did they know what you’d kept hidden from them, was what you meant. Were they going to yell at you for this? 

He nodded, a small smile curling across his face. “Rogers visited earlier. He looked like he was going to strangle you in your sleep. I managed to run him off, for now.”

Oh, god. You let your eyes slip closed again, and tilted your head backwards a little more solidly into the pillow. “Please never leave.” Your cheeks burned. It was mostly a joke, not that you’d really meant to say it out loud. Right now the sheer thought of having to listen to Steve tear into you for keeping this from the others made you feel like you were dying. He meant well. You _knew_ that he meant well. His anger always came from a place of love. It was just...a lot, sometimes. 

Loki shifted beside you, and you felt him take your hand in both of his. “I’ll stay right here.”

And it was like you could breathe again.


End file.
